A Miserables Story
by Ladyoflalaland
Summary: All Enjolras wants for Christmas is a Red Ryder Musket and he will stop at nothing to get one! A parody of the classic movie, A Christmas Story, using Les Mis characters. Now with a second chapter for your enjoyment.
1. Chapter I: On Essays and Friends

**Chapter I: On Essays and Friends **

**A/N: Yes… be afraid, be very afraid… Ok, so, since I do not have A Christmas Story completely memorized, and because of the good 220 ish years between that and Les Mis, this will deviate slightly from the plot of ACS. I am counting on two things, a. that you all have seen A Christmas Story (not very likely, I know, and forgive me if you have not!) and b. that you all do not find me completely insane after reading this. **

**Also, I love Enjolras… any bashing of him in this is just because I bash the ones I love most. I know that the Amis love him too -not in a slashy way though! - so when they bash him in my parody it is just to achieve a (hopefully) comedic affect. Also, the OOCness goes along with the parody: anyone who does not get that will be ignored, sorry. But… look, just take the time to think a bit, people.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Les Miserables or A Christmas Story. I own nothing, really, save for a few stuffed toy cats, a sweater, and a copy of **_**A Tale of Two Cities**_**…**

Enjolras stared, mouth agape, at the shiny new musket that the patrolling guard was carrying. It was the newest, coolest, most wonderful item in the world and he just had to have one of his own. Smiling, the revolutionary walked towards the Café Musain, determined to enlist his friends' help in getting one. As he burst into the café, he tried his best to stay calm and composed. _Try not to sound too eager, Enjy; you can do this! Someone will muster up in their heart enough love for you to buy you that gun. Too bad that Mom and Dad cut you off from the family fortune after that fiasco in which you told them that, when democracy was brought to France, they would be the guillotine's first victims…_

"Friends, comrades," Enjolras shouted as he pushed the door open, "I have a task for you all, in the name of democracy!" _No, no!_ Enjolras thought, that sounded too… well, it sort of made fun of his cause. Well, no time to take back his words now. Everyone had turned to stare at him. "I, um... well… I w-want..." the blond stuttered.

"What? Get it out already!" Courfeyrac rolled his eyes in annoyance.

"I want an Official Red Ryder Carbine Action Two Hundred Shot Range Model Musket !" Enjolras spurted. The Amis looked shocked. That was it; Enjolras had just officially lost all of their support. As if the title "Fun sucking intensely obsessive probably effeminate rich prat" that most of the Amis called him behind his back was not enough, now they thought he was insane too.

"Oh… are you sure that you don't just want another vest, dear?" Combeferre asked in the patient tone he usually reserved for when that kid Courfeyrac found, Marius Pontmercy, was being difficult.

Grantaire laughed, "Come on 'Ferre, doesn't every revolutionist want a Red Ryder Musket? Cut Enjolras some slack!"

Enjolras smiled appraisingly at the drunk, though stopped when he noticed Grantaire pouring another drink. _I_ _cannot encourage him…_

No, no, absolutely not!" Combeferre shouted, then composed himself and turned to Enjolras "You'll shoot your eye out!" He reasonably stated. "It is scientific fact that…"

After the words, 'You'll shoot your eye out,' Enjolras' mind went blank. _So they had abandoned me?_ He thought, mind in a whirl._ I will find other ways… I will have that gun!_

"And besides," Combeferre was still talking, "the good must be innocent!" With that, he sat down in a chair. Enjolras surveyed the faces of the other men around him. Joly was nodding in agreement with everything that Combeferre had said. Bossuet, as Joly's best friend for life, was concurring with him. Feuilly was muttering something about how Enjolras needed to be happy with what he had: after all, he didn't work of a living. Bahorel was really oblivious to the whole exchange, being both angry at always being left out in fics or maybe just going along with the fact that he had no wit, timing, or luck with anything. Jehan was looking sympathetically at Enjolras, though, he was also sobbing dramatically at the thought of Enjolras losing an eye. Courfeyrac was mostly just watching the whole exchange with a sarcastic smile. He most likely assumed that this was just a pathetic attempt by Enjolras to get attention or something.

_That's it then! I will have to find another way to get my Red Ryder Musket. Besides, who needs them anyways? Those one-dimensional friends who only have one thing going for them and are really capitalizing on it._

"Wow, Combeferre, you sure had a lot to say about this! What the hell do you think you are: Enjolras' mother?" Grantaire emptied another bottle of wine.

"W-well, I-ah… I am the only responsible one around here!" Combeferre yelled. Then he pushed his glasses up and pouted, mumbling to himself.

Enjolras composed himself and then turned to face the Les Amis again.

"No, I appreciate your concern for me, Combeferre. I would like to say-Winecasket! Quit that drinking at once! You have downed at least five bottles of-" Enjolras was cut off.

"Hey, for once I too am being responsible. You see, there is this contest out, and the person who collects the most labels off of wine bottles get a prize! If I win this, I will never have to work again!" Grantaire paused and drank even more.

"Wait; you never work anyways! So, what in the name of Poland are you going on about?" Feuilly sputtered.

"Very funny Feuilly, very funny..." Grantaire said sarcastically. "Now, what were we all talking about again?"

The Amis looked around blankly: what were they talking about?

"Oh yes… Joly was telling everyone about the nature of his new disease!" Bossuet told the crowd. Everyone looked slightly uncomfortable and quickly started making small talk. Enjolras frowned angrily and stomped out of the café. _There has to be some other way to get that gun…_

The next morning, Enjolras was still musing on his predicament as he headed to class. Occasionally, he had to check to make sure that that annoying boy Marius Pontmercy was still behind him. Enjolras, while not fond of the Bonapartist Baron, knew that Pontmercy was the kind of person who was prone to getting lost on his way to the same class that they went to every week, or tripping over air, or forgetting what he was doing and spending the next twelve hours writing 'I Lurv Ursula' on a wall.

Finally, the pair made it to their class and hurriedly slid into seats. The professor started talking.

"Now boys, today we have a visitor from the Paris Police Station. He will be lecturing you all on blah blah blah blah blah blah." The professor kept on going but Enjolras was imagining himself killing National Guards men with his Red Ryder Musket. "So, without further adieu, here is the only policeman in Paris - no, the only policeman in all of France - Inspector Javert!" Marius was the only one who clapped. Enjolras silenced him with a glare.

Inspector Javert turned out to be a rather crazed looking middle-aged man with large sideburns. He stood up and started droning ceaselessly on how the law was not mocked and he was the law. Enjolras was just about prepared to sink back into a fantasy where he chased off fangirls with his new musket when Inspector Javert made the following announcement,

"Now," the law loving man lectured, "I would like all of you to write an essay on the theme, 'How I Would Catch Convict 24,601." Enjolras was suddenly alert. _This is it! I could write the theme on how I would use my musket to track down and catch this 24,601. Everyone will love it! Combeferre will have to buy me that Red Ryder gun now, once he realizes all the good I can do with it! _Once again, the fair student had ignored the obvious answer, just buy the gun himself, and went with some elaborate scheme that could have surely only been thought up by a nine-year-old in a 1980's Christmas movie.

Enjolras began to write fervently. When the professor called time, he quickly ran up to the desk and deposited his _magnum opus_. Glancing sideways at Marius' he read the first sentence, 'Me and my girlfriend Ursula would use R lurv 2 katch the bad guy!' _Wow, grammar, spelling, and just plain awfulness, it reminds me of some fanfictions… how did Pontmercy get into college in the first place_? Enjolras rolled his eyes_, the standards for who can become lawyers these days are really, really low._

Quietly, Enjolras headed back to his desk and waited while the papers were quickly graded by the professor and Inspector Javert. Why, exactly, the papers were graded right then and there is still a mystery. However, that fact is skipped over as Enjolras got his essay back.

_This is it!_ He thought flipping the paper over_, they shall have loved it so much that I get an-_

C+, that is what the paper said. But, it wasn't the grade that cut Enjolras so; it was the note, written in red at the top of the page, stating simply, 'You'll shoot your eye out!'

**A/N: Will our darling Enjy ever get his Red Ryder Musket? Tune in… sometime to see!**

**Loved it? Hated it? Could not stand to read it? Had no idea what I was talking about? Well, regardless, I will probably publish the next chapter Friday. (hey, I have a life you know, people, cannot be expected just to write stories for you guys all the time!) This will be a three part story and the last part will be in before Christmas Eve. Also, I happen to detest when all the amis talk about in fics is the one thing that defines them. This is why I do my best to parody that in my story.**


	2. On Bullies and Lamps

**A/N: Ok, so I abandoned this story a year ago, but, lately, I've received a couple of reviews asking me to update. Now, I wrote this chapter a good year ago, but I didn't like it then. Upon rereading it, I realized it wasn't too horrible and edited it up a bit. I'm still not completely happy, but, whatever. And don't judge me: this idea was from my younger-self's brain. And it's not even Christmas time now…**

**Warning: OOCness, slashy jokes, and let's-make-Les-Amis-do-stupid-stuff abounds. Please put your seat in an upright position and put all tray tables back in place. Thank you.**

It was with a heavy heart that our friend Enjolras walked to the Café Musain that day. His wonderful plan to acquire the musket had failed. His essay had failed. He had failed. It was awful! Life - it seemed to the blond revolutionist - could not possibly get any worse. Unfortunately for him and Marius Pontmercy, who, despite not actually being part of the _Amis de ABC_, seemed to want to follow Enjolras back, it did get worse.

As Enjolras and Marius cut through an alley way, they came face to face with the handsome young man (most likely the second handsomest young man in Paris, Enjolras got the honor of being first) who liked nothing better than to torment and bully the honest folk, Montparnasse. To make matters worse, his little sidekick, Eponine was there as well.

_Oh shut the front door. _

"Where ya goin'? I had something to talk to you about!" Montparnasse said slyly, balling his hand into a fist.

"Ya take the blondy: I wan' Monsieur Marius!" Eponine purred in her low, rough voice.

"Sure, sure…" Montparnasse lazily crooned, "tubby is all yours, doll."

_Oh God… what that girl would do to Marius!_ Enjolras took a brief second to ponder his friend's fate, decided that Pontmercy was a lost cause anyways, and started running for it.

"Run like the wind, Pontmercy!" Enjolras called over his shoulder. Poor Marius - who had not bothered to workout ever and was burdened by the many coats he had worn as a precautionary measure against the cold - was much, much slower than Enjolras. However, both made it out of the alleyway alive and sprinted to the Musain. Inside, he collapsed breathlessly into a chair. Marius stumbled in after him and fell on an unsuspecting Courfeyrac.

"Argh! What the French toast, Marius?" Courfeyrac pushed his roommate onto the ground. "What are you doing here? I thought you said that Enjolras scares you."

"H-he… does… scare… me… very freaking that dude… and too blond must use some sort of…hair dye." Marius panted.

"Haha! Hair dye, yes! Or bleach: hair that blond is totally not natural!" Courfeyrac joked.

Enjolras self-consciously ran a hand through his long blond hair, even thought hair dye would not be invented a few centuries. Then he glared at both Marius and Courfeyrac, "I hope you both know that I am right here and have heard every word of your exchange!"

"Meep!" Marius, upon realizing that he had just offended the very man that he had often thought to be hiding under his bed at night, waiting to kill him, ran for the door. At that very moment, the door to the café burst open and a delivery man with a very large package walked in.

"I, uh-" the man began, "have a delivery for a M. Grantaire."

"My prize!" Grantaire jumped up from his usual stoop in the corner and ran to the package.

Joly looked confused, "What are you talking ab-"

"Sheesh… remember yesterday when Grantaire started talking about the contest he had entered?" Combeferre explained, "Well, this must be whatever he had won. Now, I believe that the real question here is; how the frak did you get a delivery service to deliver to the cafe?"

"Oh that? That's nothing! You just have to know the right people." Grantaire looked up from hugging his new prize.

"Alright… can we get back to me and _my_ story?" Enjolras asked angrily. "I have yet to have a thoughtshot into my head about my Red R-"

"Wait, hold on Enjolras!" Grantaire said, "Let's all see what I have won first! "

All the_ Amis _quickly gathered 'round the large brown box, pushing each other out of the way so that they could be the first to see this wonderful trophy.

"Now, if I could just…" Grantaire pulled the top off the box, "tada! Here is my brand new… lamp?"

Everyone was shocked and a few possibly scared - or, in the case of Jehan, weeping with the sight her beheld - when the much awaited prize turned out to be an oil lamp in the form of a woman's leg.

"What the hell kind of monstrosity is that thing?" Enjolras fumed. "Remove it from my sight at once! It detracts from everything that we are for, it belittles our cause, i-it is against the republic in all its forms!" Enjolras was about to stand on a table when Grantaire pulled him down.

"Come on! I won it; won't you let me keep it?" Grantaire gently asked his hero.

Enjolras, startled to find himself in the other man's grasp, pulled himself away before the horrible slash fans arrived.

"Absolutely not!"

"Please?"

"No!"

"But Ennjjjooolllrraasss!" Grantaire tried to look cute, but failed miserably.

"Hold on a minute," Marius emerged from where he was lurking in the doorway, "Can someone please answer my question?"

"WHAT!" Enjolras was way past his breaking point.

"I… I ah…" Marius hesitated, afraid of facing Enjolras' wrath, "I'm not sure what you guys are arguing about. Can't we all just be friends?" At this, Marius began to prepare to burst into song. Jehan looked only too happy at the prospect of a sing along. However, a crash from outside and a quick curse made all the Amis run out the door.

"Nooo!" On the snow covered pavement lay the shattered fragments of the lamp.

"Courfeyrac: what the hell were you thinking?" Combeferre stood, hands on his hips, glaring at the other man.

"But 'Ferre, I liked it! Besides – ohh: you look very nice in this light!" Obviously, the flirty student had decided to take the creepy lamp for his own, and then had dropped it.

Combeferre was not one for flattery, "at least that's settled." He stated, rolling his eyes.

Grantaire let out a sob and moved in to hug Enjolras, but the taller man quickly side stepped away and rapidly walked from the wreckage, a smile on his face.

_Well, looks like I've won again._

Walking home from class the next day, Enjolras found himself once again in low spirits. He had no new ideas to get his gun, despite having zoned out in all his classes thinking about it. His thoughts were interrupted with a scream. Looking up quickly, Enjolras just had enough time to see Marius being attacked by a dark shape before he felt a presence behind him.

It was Montparnasse.

"Hello again" the dandy smirked, "how'd you like to no longer be the best looking person in Paris? It must be so hard, having fangirls follow you around all the time." Montparnasse took a step closer, "But, fortunately, I can help you with that. With my fist. In your face. Then, you'll look normal" he paused, "ish."

Enjolras froze. Then, without thinking, he balled up his hand and hit Montparnasse as hard as he could. Montparnasse, surprised, doubled over.

"No one," Enjolras spat (in a beautiful way, of course) "touches my face!"

He hit Montparnasse again who, for the sake of the story, fell over, unconscious. With a yell, Enjolras charged Eponine and, also for the sake of the story, scared her off. If it hadn't help move the plot along, both Montparnasse and Eponine could have easily felled Enjolras.

However, Enjolras, unaware of this fact, was jumping up in down in celebration. Until he saw a figure moving towards him: Combeferre.

_Uh oh, someone's in trouble… _

"I- uh – I'm sorry, 'Ferre and Pontmercy, I didn't mean to be so violent, you guys aren't mad: right?" Enjolras stammered meekly.

Combeferre rolled his eyes, "You're twenty-two: you can do whatever you want!"

"My hero!" Marius hugged Enjolras briefly before he realized what he was doing, gave a little yelp and jumped away.

"Really?" Enjolras asked, a feeling of relief settling over him.

"Sure… whatever, besides: why should I complain about you taking out one of the members of Patron-Minette?"

Enjolras pondered for a moment, looking down at the unconscious Montparnasse before speaking.

"Well," Enjolras began, "how did this chapter further the readers' lives at all?"

Combeferre stared off into space for a while, "The thing is, Enjolras: it really didn't. But I'm proud of you: you stood up for yourself." And, not to sound sappy, he added, "and you broke the fourth wall."

"Ok then… let's go back to the Musain. We can leave Montparnasse here: I am willing to bet that he won't be bothering us for a long time."

"Yay!" Marius yelled, making a reemergence.

With that, all three boys linked arms and skipped back to the warmth and joy of the café, because that is what is in character for them to do.

Our scene ends with everyone sitting around a fire and laughing. The camera zooms out, showing the café, and then continues to zoom, not showing all of Paris. In the last frame it shows you, dear reader, sitting at your computer just as you are now. Fade to black.

**Maybe I'll write the last chapter, maybe not. Reviews are appreciated.**


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